


The Lap of the Law

by NahaFlowers



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: I think that's a recurring theme with me, Javert comes in his pants, Lapdance, M-sur-M, M/M, Madeleine Era, Madeleine wearing makeup a short skirt fishnet tights and not a lot else, Nobody knows, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, dubcon due to identity issues, is it modern au or canon era?, kinkmeme fill, slightly angsty ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahaFlowers/pseuds/NahaFlowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt in the les mis kinkmeme: Valjean giving Javert a lapdance. That's all.</p>
<p>Javert's colleagues persuade him to come to a 'gentlemen's club' with him, and Javert begrudgingly agrees, if only to gain their respect.  Little does he know that Monsieur Madeleine is working undercover there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lap of the Law

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I wasn't sure whether I should set this in canon era or as a modern AU (which is why it remains basically ambiguous as to what time it's set). In my head it took a turn towards canon era, although if we're being historically accurate, gentlemen's clubs and the like didn't exist (at least in such an organised form) until the late 19th century (or so Wikipedia tells me). But since this is basically PWP, hopefully you can forgive a little anachronism?

Javert hadn’t wanted to come here. He really hadn’t. He didn’t want or need any friends in the police force, and he wasn’t even sure of the legality of the place. But he did need respect from his colleagues. And if that meant swallowing his pride and attending a so-called ‘gentlemen’s club’ for one night, then so be it.

Javert had been right; these women were basically prostituting themselves. Scantily clad in low-cut blouses and fishnet tights, they were rubbing themselves up against men, and squirming in their laps. Though the club itself may have been just barely legal, Javert was sure that the hushed deals brokered between the women and their clients for later that night weren’t. Javert had to step in and stop one of his very own men from going forth with such a deal. That would have been a disgrace, an officer of the law illegally hiring a prostitute, legitimizing these women’s activities and encouraging lawbreakers. He didn’t much care that the officer in question looked at him in disgust and called stuffy old faggot; Javert was just glad he’d done his duty. Although so much for generating mutual respect in his force; this night was turning out to be a colossal waste of his time.

“Hello Monsieur.” Javert barely noticed when one of the girls started whispering suggestively in his ear, although this changed when her hand drifted from his shoulder downwards, palming his crotch.

He hissed furtively in her ear “Go away. I have nothing to give you.” Javert had noticed the other men (including some of his own officers) slipping notes down the girls’ bras in exchange for a lap dance. He had no such disposable income, and certainly none he’d be willing to waste in such an establishment as this, in a pursuit he would derive no pleasure from. The girl just shrugged and moved on to the next patron, but not informing a passing waiter that Inspector Javert would be needing something slightly different. The man smiled and nodded slipping into the backroom to inform the man there that his services would be required.

 

The next time someone whispered in Javert’s ear, it wasn’t a girl. Javert almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of M. Madeleine’s voice so close to his ear.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself, Inspector.”

Composing himself, Javert managed to whisper back, “Yes, well, this isn’t my sort of thing. I was trying to promote some sort of camaraderie between my men, you see, Monsieur le Maire, so I agreed to come here...” Javert continued to babble until a finger was placed on his lips. It was all he could do to keep himself from licking it from base to calloused tip. He closed his eyes, trying to control himself. He was a police officer, for god’s sake, not a goddamned pervert!

“May I ask...why you are here, Monsieur le Maire?” he asked, hating how breathy his normally gruff voice suddenly sounded.

“You may...I may, however, choose not to answer.”

Javert closed his eyes in shame, realising he had overstepped the boundary. He hurried to apologise. “I am sorry Monsieur, I did not think...” Did not think what? Javert hunted for some words that would excuse his highly inappropriate behaviour. Madeleine let him flail for a while before taking pity on the man.

“Calm yourself, man. I am here because I am investigating this place, after Fantine advised me about it.”

“The whore?” Javert burst out, indignant about the woman’s escape still, perhaps even more so at the fact that Madeleine had taken it upon himself to investigate possibly criminal activity.

“Yes. Although I would prefer that you did not refer to her by that name,” Madeleine replied through gritted teeth, the muted anger in his voice making the hairs the back of Javert’s neck stand up on end.

“Why did you not inform me that you were investigating this place?” Javert asked, almost equally angry.

“I was about to. I needed to discover actual criminal activities first. These places,” Madeleine waved a vague hand around the room, “while distasteful, are not illegal.” Javert nodded. “What I did not count on, however, was that my police inspector would be spending his own downtime here. I must say, Javert, I am extremely disappointed.”

Yet again, Javert closed his eyes in shame. The excuse about bonding with his colleagues reached the tip of his tongue, but he forced it back down. That was not the real reason why he had agreed to come, why he had not rejected their offer straightaway or indeed try to dissuade them from going. No, the reason he had come was to try and escape the sinful images of the Mayor that filled his mind every night, Madeleine in a variety of positions, Javert always squirming with delight underneath him. He had come to replace those images with different ones, of girls in barely anything, rubbing up against him, hoping to fill his dreams with pictures that were still sinful, but less so. He had failed.

“I...am sorry, Monsieur le Maire,” Javert whispered brokenly.

“That doesn’t quite cut it, Inspector, I’m afraid,” Madeleine said evenly. Javert closed his eyes in resignation. Then Madeleine bent down to his ear again, and whispered heatedly: “Come to the back room in 10 minutes and we can discuss your misconduct somewhere more...private.” 

Javert nodded gratefully as he watched his superior leave. It was getting harder and harder to hide the bulge in his trousers, and while the Mayor seeing it would be bad enough, he daren’t imagine what his fellow police officers would say if they saw how aroused he was just from a short conversation with Madeleine.

 

Ten minutes later, a woman appeared at his side. “Inspector Javert?” she asked, quite unnecessarily. Everyone in the town knew Javert. 

Javert nodded.

“I’m here to take you to the back room,” she said, and winked at him. Javert shivered, but pushed himself to his feet and followed her without a word.

When she pushed open the door to the room and motioned Javert to step in before her, he was confused to find it was empty apart from a rickety old chair that stood in the middle of the room. Madame motioned to the chair. 

“Sit there, please. Monsieur Madeleine will be through in a minute.” She left, shutting (and locking) the door behind her.

Javert bristled at being given orders by such a woman, but seeing nothing else to do, he plonked himself inelegantly on the chair. The interceding ten minutes had done nothing to reduce his raging erection (if anything, its growth had been fuelled by the images parading themselves through Javert’s head) and he only hoped that the Mayor would be kind enough to ignore it.

 

The door opened a crack, and Javert’s heart almost stopped. Then it opened a little more and a well-polished stiletto stepped through, the shapely leg rising up from it swathed in fishnet. What was this? Javert had wanted the Mayor, not another one of these girls...oh. Javert’s mouth hung open in realisation as his eyes travelled up the surprisingly well-muscled body before coming to rest on Madeleine’s face. For Javert could see it was certainly Madeleine, despite the long false eyelashes, the blue eye shadow and the blood red lipstick. Never, even in his deepest, darkest fantasies, had Javert imagined such a depravity as this. He failed to bite back a groan.

Madeleine gave a predatory grin at the sound. Such a beautiful mouth should not be able to produce that expression, Javert thought. For Madeleine was beautiful, Javert saw that now. Maybe that was why, upon waking from dreams of the man, the overwhelming emotion that Javert would feel was guilt, not disgust. Because he did not deserve Madeleine, did not deserve his kindness, his graciousness, his saint-like demeanour, his perfection. And Madeleine did not deserve to be brought down to his level.  
Yet here was, thought Javert, as Madeleine strode into the room, an extremely short skirt made from the flimsiest possible material the only thing covering his modesty, as Javert discovered when Madeleine’s movements caused the skirt to billow up, and Javert saw his thick hardened length pressing against its fishnet cage. He hadn’t thought it was possible, but Javert became even harder.

Madeleine smiled again at Javert squirming on the wooden chair. He leant over the speechless Inspector, deliberately resting his hand on his thigh and whispering in Javert’s ear “Perhaps this is more to your taste, Sir.”

In spite of himself, Javert nodded furiously, a high-pitched ‘mmmmm’ escaping his mouth in lieu of anything coherent to say. Monsieur le Maire chuckled in his rich, deep voice and his tongue darted out to lathe the shell of Javert’s ear. All coherent thought left the Inspector completely, and he pulled the infuriating man bodily onto his lap. Madeleine was, despite his superhuman strength, powerless to resist.

“Ooh, eager, aren’t we?” Madeleine cooed in Javert’s ear, straddling the man’s thighs. “Big boy,” he added as he began to rock back and forth on Javert’s rock solid cock. Javert whimpered.

Madeleine increased the pace of his rocking until Javert was panting, an attractive blush colouring his usually stern features. Then the Mayor began gyrating his hips at random, grinding against Javert’s erection which was still imprisoned in the stiff material of his trousers. 

“Monsieur,” Javert gasped out between heavy breaths. He closed his eyes, clearly trying to retain a semblance of control. “God, what you’re doing to me, I can’t, you shouldn’t...let me touch you,” Javert practically whined, his fingers reaching out longingly even in lieu of Madeleine’s permission.

“No,” he snapped. “If you touch me, you risk receiving my displeasure. I might have to bind you to the chair next time, in order to prevent it.”

Javert let out a low moan, the thought of being tied up by Monsieur Madeleine added to the tantalising possibility of a _next time_ almost too much for the inspector. He barely noticed that Madeleine’s hands had crept into his hair until he heard the man’s voice in his ear.

“Do you promise not to touch me?” he asked, twisting his talons in Javert’s mane for emphasis. “You must promise me this, or this will not happen again.” Javert groaned, nodding against the man’s chest.

“What was that, Inspector?” he asked, voice sultry, fingers tickling the shorter hairs at the back of Javert’s neck.

“Yes, I said yes, Monsieur,” Javert managed to gasp out. “I promise I won’t touch you, I swear it. Just...keep going, for the love of God!” Exhausted from this attempt at speech, Javert leaned back against the chair, eyes closing, and cried out when Madeleine nipped at his ear yet again.

“You like that, don’t you?” The Mayor smiled gently, almost kindly, and Javert might have believed it were it not for the glint in his eye or the manner in which he was still rolling his hips over Javert’s cock.

Javert nodded, his eyes tight shut. He was so close to the edge now, so close...if the man would just bite his ear again or...he felt the Mayor’s scarlet-painted claws inch under his leg and gently, ever so gently squeeze one of his balls, and he was gone. He had probably stained his trousers by coming in them, but that did not seem to matter at the moment. No, what mattered was that Monsieur Madeleine, who had just brought him to release using nothing but his legs, his teeth and his fingers, was sat back on Javert’s lap, staring at him with something approaching wonder.

Suddenly, Javert could barely breathe. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before, and...his train of thought was lost as his eyes travelled to the Mayor’s lips, moistened from his exertions

“Kiss me,” Javert breathed before he could think about what he was saying. A shutter went down behind Monsieur le Maire’s eyes and Javert knew immediately he’d said the wrong thing. He looked horrified, and after all, why shouldn’t he be? He may be undercover here, but he was just doing his job and kissing shabby, low-down police inspectors was not in the job description, nor, Javert thought scornfully to himself, on the Mayor’s to-do list.

 

If Javert thought he had guessed correctly at the Mayor’s reluctance to kiss Javert, he would have been wrong. Until this moment, Jean Valjean had been able to pretend to himself that he was just fulfilling two men’s baser desires, bringing Javert release in an atmosphere where he didn’t have to feel ashamed while he worked off his own frustrations. But when Javert looked up at him from beneath hooded eyelids and begged his social superior to kiss him from such a vulnerable position, Valjean realised the attraction ran a lot deeper than mere sordid desires, for both of them if he was honest with himself.

Monsieur Madeleine slowly drew Javert’s chin up to look at him. Javert’s expression contained more shame and self-loathing than the good man in him could bear to see.

“Monsieur, I apologise, I don’t know what I was th-”

“Shhh,” Madeleine whispered soothingly, interrupting his inspector's apologetic ramblings with a finger on the lips. Javert glanced up at the Mayor with such hope and longing in his eyes that Madeleine had to swallow a lump in his throat. He smiled gently, absolutely sincere this time. “Don’t you have to pay me extra for that?” he whispered in Javert’s ear, his deep chuckle reassuring Javert that he was teasing.

Madeleine leaned back just in time to see Javert smile tremulously. This stern, hard-nosed, ruthlessly fair police officer had just sat back and let Madeleine take him apart. He owed him something, at least.

That’s what Jean Valjean told himself as he leant forward and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to the Inspector’s slightly parted lips. A reward given for the loyalty and trust that Javert had given him, loyalty and trust that Valjean had stolen with a false name. Once a thief, always a thief. Maybe the Inspector was right.


End file.
